Poems by James Hyslop ... With a Sketch of his Life, and Notes on his Poems, By the Rev. Peter Mearns |
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| III. | III.
Kintra Jock.
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 | Poems by James Hyslop |  |
123
III.
Kintra Jock.
Mither, yestreen when it grew late,
Ye ken ye teuk a towte,
An' sent me tae bring hame the cow
Frae 'mang the miller's nowte.
Ye ken ye teuk a towte,
An' sent me tae bring hame the cow
Frae 'mang the miller's nowte.
As I gaed up the march-dyke side
To seek auld doddit Bawsie,
Wha meets I gaen tae Kilmalcolm
But a gay bonnie lassie!
To seek auld doddit Bawsie,
Wha meets I gaen tae Kilmalcolm
But a gay bonnie lassie!
I didna speer whaur she cam' frae,
For troth I didna like;
But I genteely says, “Mamma,
I'll help ye ower the dyke.”
For troth I didna like;
But I genteely says, “Mamma,
I'll help ye ower the dyke.”
“Sir,” quo' she, “if you'll be so good,
I'll take it very kind”—
“Hout, lass! an' I'se do ten times mair,
Gin ye but hae a mind.”
I'll take it very kind”—
“Hout, lass! an' I'se do ten times mair,
Gin ye but hae a mind.”
I lifts her up, an' ower the dyke
I jumpit in a crack,
An' catcht her on the 'tither side,
Just like a bunch o' thack.
I jumpit in a crack,
An' catcht her on the 'tither side,
Just like a bunch o' thack.
An' O, her hair was curled nice,
As ye may weel suppose;
Some o' them hung ahint her lugs,
An' some abune her nose!
As ye may weel suppose;
Some o' them hung ahint her lugs,
An' some abune her nose!
A kaim, like our auld clockin'
hen—
Nae, mither, it's nae whud!—
Sat cockin' up a tait ahin,
Maist like a maukin's fud!
Nae, mither, it's nae whud!—
Sat cockin' up a tait ahin,
Maist like a maukin's fud!
An' then, O mither, too, her een
I very near forgot;
They min't me o' the clear buttons
On my new duffel coat.
I very near forgot;
They min't me o' the clear buttons
On my new duffel coat.
124
“And now,” says she, “what do I owe
For such a favour's this?”
“Mamma,” says I, “a gentleman
Wad ask nocht but a kiss.”
For such a favour's this?”
“Mamma,” says I, “a gentleman
Wad ask nocht but a kiss.”
“Such favours, Sir, I seldom grant,”—
She ca't me Sir again!—
I kenna how it cam' about—
I catcht her shekal-bane.
She ca't me Sir again!—
I kenna how it cam' about—
I catcht her shekal-bane.
An' O, her han' was saft an' warm,
An' unco nice to han'le;
Her fingers they were white an' sma',
Maist like a bawbee can'le;
An' unco nice to han'le;
Her fingers they were white an' sma',
Maist like a bawbee can'le;
An' on the mid ane's tap there was
A nice clear glancin' thim'il,
Wad maist hae shod the ringit stick
That I gat frae our Samuel.
A nice clear glancin' thim'il,
Wad maist hae shod the ringit stick
That I gat frae our Samuel.
I gied her cheek a wee bit whisk,
An' her bit bonnie chin;
They were as saft's my grannie's purse,
Made o' the mowdie skin.
An' her bit bonnie chin;
They were as saft's my grannie's purse,
Made o' the mowdie skin.
I ettelt weel her lips wad be
As sweet as succar-aloe,
But weel I wat the prie I gat
Was maist as wersh as tallow.
As sweet as succar-aloe,
But weel I wat the prie I gat
Was maist as wersh as tallow.
Some poets say a kiss inspires
Them like the Castle stream;
For my part, I wad rather drink
Guid sweet milk, whey, or cream.
Them like the Castle stream;
For my part, I wad rather drink
Guid sweet milk, whey, or cream.
Maybe they might hae been mair sweet,
Had but my lips been hale,—
But yesterday I burnt them a'
Wi' suppin' scaudin' kale;
Had but my lips been hale,—
But yesterday I burnt them a'
Wi' suppin' scaudin' kale;
An' then she faught an' warstled sae
I har'ly gat a prievin'
Syne, in a huff, she bang'd away,
An' ower the muir gaed scrievin';
I har'ly gat a prievin'
Syne, in a huff, she bang'd away,
An' ower the muir gaed scrievin';
125
I heard a rowt—I fan' the nowte,
But tint the bonnie lassie;
Sae I cam' hame an' fill'd my wame,
An' dreamt o' her and Bawsie.
But tint the bonnie lassie;
Sae I cam' hame an' fill'd my wame,
An' dreamt o' her and Bawsie.
| Poems by James Hyslop | |